


Companions React to the Sole Survivor Having a few Too Many Drinks

by tea_petty



Series: Collection of Companions' Reactions [15]
Category: Fallout 4
Genre: Companions, Companions React, Drinking, F/F, F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-12-09
Updated: 2018-12-09
Packaged: 2019-09-14 18:14:54
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 8,345
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16917840
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/tea_petty/pseuds/tea_petty
Summary: The Sole Survivor decides to self medicate; the Companions are there to witness the fallout.





	Companions React to the Sole Survivor Having a few Too Many Drinks

**Author's Note:**

> Originally posted to my Tumblr; tea-petty

**Ada** : “Ma’am, I think you’re sufficiently inebriated.”  Ada rolled forward slightly from her spot in the corner, watching as a thoroughly tossed Sole clambered down from her bar stool, nearly toppling over in the process.

“Hell yeah, I am!”  Sole wobbled to her feet and raised her glass high.  

Several other thoroughly  _inebriated_  patrons jovially raised their glasses up in response. Liquor lapped at the sides of the glasses, occasionally spilling over, and slopping to the floor.

“Ma’am, I fret that anymore alcohol could have detrimental effects on you tomorrow; such as, but not limited to, headache, nausea, vomiting…”

Sole’s face contorted in a drunken knockoff of rage.

“Screw hangovers! They  _suck_!”  Sole proclaimed proudly.

From somewhere in the back of the bar, a distant ‘ _Sing it, sister!_ ’ could be heard. This did not go unnoticed by Sole, who pointed a finger in the general direction.

“ _And_  they swallow!”

A few bursts of scattered laughter rippled around the establishment, mingling with several shrewd expressions, of patrons who didn’t appreciate the vulgar nature of the joke.

“Ma’am, I believe this loss of your inhibitions may lead you to act inappropriately, if not differently, in your current state. I believe it would be in your best interest if we left, so that you may not reap further unwanted social consequences from your behavior.”

“Ada,” Sole moaned, “You’re right, I’m a terrible drunk.”

Hot, irrational tears budded at the corners of Sole’s eyes.

“I’m a terrible person too!”  Sole hiccupped, before a small sob shook her.

Ada let out the robotic equivalent of a sigh.

“Please follow me ma’am, I will be sure to lead you safely back to your residence.”

Ada rolled forward so that her arm was close enough to Sole that she could cling to it, in her severe lack of coordination.  

“Thank you so much Ada,” Sole whimpered, “you’re my best friend, it’s official, you’re my girl.”

“I believe you are expressing a bonding sentiment to me, as a result of your gratitude, ma’am.  It really is not a big deal.”

Ada began to roll slowly away from the bar, towards the exit of the drinking establishment, Sole in tow.

“My mom always said that when you go out for a night on the town, you’re going to need your b-bitches  -  _hic_  – and you’re the baddest b-bitch of all, Ada.  I mean it.”

Sole stumbled along, cooing affectionately towards Ada.  Before she knew it, Ada had stopped right in front of Sole’s house.  It was dark inside, and briefly Ada calculated the probability of Sole stumbling in, losing her footing, hitting her head as she fell, and losing all brain activity.  In the end she decided that it may still be a step up from her current state.  

“Alright ma’am, we have arrived at your place of residence.  I recommend rest and fluids to hydrate you.”

Sole wobbled forward, before leaning heavily on the door frame, and turning to face Ada.

“Thanks Ada,” she mumbled, before lurching forward, and clattering into her house with a clumsy bang here and there.

Ada rolled away into the night.

**Cait:** Cait and Sole both threw their heads back as they knocked another shot of vodka back.

“Woo!”  Cait cheered, making a face at the familiar burn of the liquid hitting her throat.

Sole gagged a little, slumping in her seat, and swallowing with great effort.

“Woo.” Sole rasped, raising her arm to fist pump weakly.

“C’mon now, ye can’t tell me tha’ was enough ta do ye in.”

“No, no, of course not.” Sole coughed and tried not to think about the twinge of nausea that stung her stomach.  

Cait was oblivious.

“Alrigh’ then – oi bartender, another round fer us!”

“You got it.”

Sole blinked wearily at the counter, as she saw two shot glasses of the clear alcohol slide across, one towards Cait and one for her.  The harsh scent assaulted her nose, sending her stomach twisting and writhing inside her.

“One, two, thre – ye sure yer good?  Ye look a bit green thar.”

In the next moment, urgency struck Sole, and she clambered off her stool, nearly knocking it over in the process.  Her eyes widened in horror, as she pressed her hand tightly to her mouth, before half running, and half falling out the door, stumbling to her knees right around the corner of the doorway.

A few moments later, Cait heard the wet sound of vomit hitting the bushes outside, followed by a few coughs.

Cait tsked and shook her head, “Lightweight,” she muttered, before wandering over to Sole’s side.

Sole whimpered as another wave of nausea washed over her.  She felt warm hands smooth her hair away from her face, as more bile poured from her mouth.

Cait wrinkled her nose, “Bloody hell.  Yer a mess.”

Sole shot Cait a pained glare, “Not all of us have a liver of steel.”

Cait nodded in agreement, “Tha’s true, not many others have my…aptitude…fer drink.”

Sole shuddered, and Cait smoothed a hand over her back, a feverish heat soaking through the thin material of her shirt.

“Alrigh’, alrigh’ love, let it out.”

Sole groaned, “This sucks.”

“Are ye done fer now?”

“I…I think so.”

Suddenly Cait was hoisting Sole to her feet, slinging an arm around her shoulders to support her, before gently guiding her to Cait’s house – the closer of the two.

“Alrigh’ easy now.”

They took a shaky step forward.

“Oh god, Cait, please stop running.”

Cait laughed, “Sure, sure.”

They managed a few more shaky steps, before Sole dropped like a dead weight on Cait.

“Hey now, none of that, you’ve got ta stand up.”

“I can’t Cait, just leave me.”  Sole moaned.

“Count yerself lucky I didn’t leave ye in a puddle of yer own puke, an’ pony up!”

The pair half staggered down the main road running through Sanctuary, to the Irishwoman’s tentative home.  The parts where Sole faltered, Cait dragged her. Eventually, step after painstaking step, they arrived.  Cait slammed on the lights, tugging Sole through the doorway.

“Now don’ puke on anything, alrigh’?  I love ye, but I’ll be right pissed.”

Sole moaned, but obediently didn’t puke.

Cait towed Sole to her bathroom, laying her down slumped against the cold porcelain of the bathtub, before disappearing for a few moments. Sole reveled in the coolness of the surface against her skin, that radiated heat.  Cait reappeared with two towels; one wet, and one dry.  Sole moaned as Cait gently set the damp one across her eyes, before slinging the dry one over her shoulder.  

Sole’s stomach heaved, and she clung to the toilet bowl, before vomiting noisily into it.

Cait sighed, holding her hair back.

“Easy does it.”

Sole sputtered and coughed beneath her, before leaning back to slump against the bathtub again.

Cait dabbed at the flecks of puke that dotted the corner of her mouth, with the towel.

Sole shuddered into the gesture, before cracking an eye open.

“Thank you, Cait.”

Cait smiled her usual lopsided smile, but her tone was soft.

“Don’ say I never did anything fer ya, love.”

**Codsworth** : “Mum, are you sure you’re alright?”

“Sure Codsworth, I’m good.”  Sole mustered an easy grin.

“Are you quite sure?  You’re looking a bit pale.”

The corner of Sole’s twitched, and her smile wavered.

“Maybe, probably.”  Sole’s voice sounded tight.

If Codsworth could’ve raised an eyebrow, he would’ve.

“I daresay you should go home mum!  You’ve had more than enough to drink tonight!”

“Sure,” Sole choked, before throwing herself from her perched spot on the barstool and stumbling outside to vomit noisily.

Codsworth sighed audibly.

“Right well, off we go mum, let’s get you home.”

Sole moaned, and staggered home, Codsworth whizzing around in tow, making sure she didn’t pass out in a puddle of her own vomit. When Sole had finally managed to get home finally, she stumbled straight to her room, and flopped down onto the bed. Sole pinched her eyes shut as she tried to fight the waves of nausea that waned and ebbed to the beat of her throbbing headache.

In the background, Sole could hear Codsworth whizzing around.  When the whizzing grew louder, she peeked an eye open.  He had disappeared again, but on her nightstand was a glass of water, and there was a bucket at her bedside.

It would’ve been funny had Sole not needed to use it.

Still though, being tucked into bed with Codsworth fussing over her brought back fond memories of pre-war days.  Being sick, and having a solid roof over her head, cold medicine, and tea.  This was nothing like that, but Sole was grateful that despite all the menial luxuries that had been lost to the bombs, Codsworth had not.  She’d be sure to tell him that when she next awoke.

**Curie** : “ _Mon dieu_!   _Madame_ , you do not look so good!”

Sole smiled through her green clamminess.

“Ridiculous, I look great.”  Sole’s words were sluggish; not quite slurred, but definitely suffering from her inebriated state.

Curie’s eyes widened, “Oh, no  _Madame_ , I did not mean it that way!  You do look a bit…ah, nauseated perhaps?”

Even the mention of it seemed to make Sole’s stomach heave.   Sole frantically wrapped a tight hand around her mouth, and under the dim lighting of the bar, Curie noticed the sickly sheen of sweat that gleamed on Sole’s forehead.

“ _Madame_ , come with me,  _s’il vous plait_ , I can help you.”  

Curie carefully reached around Sole, to shepherd her out of the dingy tap house.

Sole pinched her eyes shut in an attempt to fend off the urge to open her mouth and spill the contents of her stomach.  Sole had assumed Curie was taking her home, being the compassionate person, she was.  Upon reaching the buzzing fluorescent  _Clinic_  sign, Sole realized that she had instead enlisted the help of Dr. Curie, MD, (or whatever was the equivalent in this post-war state to an actual medical degree).  Sole could worry about those sorts of details later though, when her stomach had stopped churning, and her head had stopped swimming.

Sole peaked an eye open just as Curie flipped on the horrifically white lights on the inside.  

Sole yelped, and doubled over, hands now clamped over her eyes, and bile tainting her mouth.

Curie was startled, letting out a soft ‘Oh!’, before hurriedly rushing a bucket underneath Sole’s face just in time for her to vomit noisily into it.

Sole groaned.

“Feel any better?”

“Slightly,”

Curie hummed approvingly, “It’s because your body is trying to purge itself of the toxins you loaded into it.”

Curie carefully took Sole by the arm and began to guide her down the hallway to one of the rooms, with a bed.  Sole realized she had never made it this far into the clinic; usually she had only been stopped as far as the initial exam table, where Curie would do a quick fix, and send her on her way.  Unfortunately, there was no quick fix for the consequences of getting plastered.  One just had to ride out their subsequent hangover, in all its throbby, nauseated glory.

Once she got you settled into a bed, she disappeared for a few moments, and after Sole’s thoughts had swum a few dizzying laps, she reappeared; Sole knew this because she could hear the shuffling of movement at her bedside.  Sole didn’t bother to peek a groggy eye open until she felt something sharp stick her arm.

“Owch!”  Sole hissed.

Curie was at her side gently easing a needle into Sole’s forearm, a thin plastic tube spanned from the other end of the needle to a plastic pack full of transparent, yellow fluid slung around a bedpost.

“What the hell?” Sole grumbled, groping blindly in an attempt to rip the tip of the needle from her skin.

“Sole  _please_.” Curie gently, but firmly pushed Sole’s hand away.  “Zhis will ‘elp you, I promise.  But you ‘ave to let zhe vitamins and minerals work to cure zhe chemical imbalance een your body.”

Hot tears sprung from the corners of Sole’s eyes, “But I  _hate_  needles!” she moaned fussily.

Curie tsked slightly, “Zhis is the fastest way to get you feeling better zhough,  _Cherie_.”

Sole let herself lay limply on the bed as Curie finished inserting the needle, this compliance more so out of her drunken fatigue, than obedience.  Sole felt Curie’s soft fingers, lithely smooth over the place where the needle was inserted; placing a band aid, perhaps?  Sole would check later, when she was strong enough to open her eyes.

Sole’s eyelashes fluttered suddenly as Curie’s subtle, clean scent became more intense.  Sole could sense some source of radiative heat hovering above her, and she was confused until she felt something soft brush against her forehead. The sensation took her back to pre-war memories that if physically manifested, would be crumbling with age and a deep sepia.  Sole was suddenly very small again, curled up sick in bed.  The scent of homemade soup wafted in the air, and her mother’s soothing voice in the background.  Her hands would smooth over her forehead, peeling damp strands of hair from it, and searching for feverish indicators.  She’d always top it off with a kiss.

Sole suddenly missed her mom very much; nobody would ever care about her welfare like her mom would, right?

Unshed tears beaded on Sole’s eyelashes; the sensation of Curie’s kiss still lingering on Sole’s forehead.  

Some may come close though.

**Danse** : Sole polished off her drink with a hearty gulp, before nudging an elbow into Cait’s ribs.

“Hey, hey, I’m going to do it.”

“Do wha?  What are ye goin’ on about now?”

“I’m going to talk to him finally!”  Sole shot a sideways glance to Danse, who was sitting down the bar from them.

Cait snorted, “Yer sufficiently tossed, aren’t ye?”

“Have some faith in me!  I’m a catch!”

Cait rolled her eyes, but said nothing more, watching as Sole clambered off of her bar stool, and sauntered over to the tall, broody man.

“Hey handsome.”  Sole grinned haughtily.

Danse swiveled around on his own stool, to face Sole, raising his eyebrows appraisingly

“We’ve reached that portion of the evening, have we now?”

“You’ve been waiting for me, then, huh?”

Danse had to stifle a grin, “Sure, like I do every night. So we can go home together.”

Sole’s jaw dropped in shock, “Well aren’t you  _forward_?”

Danse snorted, his cheeks pinkening slightly. “I meant, to make sure you get home okay, since we live together anyw-.”

Sole gasped “You’re already talking about living together?”  Her eyes were wide and bright, and her cheeks were flushed from the fever of her drunken stupor.

Sole rested a hand against her cheek before turning her nose up exaggeratedly, “I can’t move in with a man I just met!”

Danse studied Sole in all her antics, a small smile crooked up on his mouth; Danse typically had little patience for drunks, but Sole was…the exception, and she’d always had been, back before they had even started dating.

Sole batted her eyelashes at Danse playfully, “But, you seem like a good man – and I feel like I’ve known you for  _ages_ , so I suppose, just this once, I can listen to my heart, and throw caution to the wind.”

Sole placed a hand against her forehead, and pivoted just to swoon heavily against Danse, who caught her readily.  He had played this part several times before.

“C’mon Sole, we should head out, I think you’ve had enough for the night.”  Danse scooped Sole up in his arms, and she squealed in delight.

Sole raised a finger and jabbed it towards the doorway, “Onward we go!”

Danse reached into the pocket of his trousers, and left a few caps on the bar, bidding the bartender goodnight, before continuing out of the bar.  Danse passed Hancock on the way out, and the ghoul let out a low whistle.

“What happened to her?”

Danse sighed, “My wife just tried to pick me up in the bar again.”

Hancock nodded approvingly, “Lucky man.”

Danse grunted in agreement and continued on his way.

**Deacon** : A low whistle sounded from behind Sole as she sat, swirling her drink at the bar.

“Well don’t you clean up nicely, Sole?”

Sole’s mouth quirked into a half smile, “Sole? I have no idea what you’re talking about.  Tonight, I’m just a girl in a bar.”

Deacon settled onto the stool next to Sole, leaning forward so that his forearms propped him up on the bar.  Tonight, he looked like a greaser, with his pompadour wig, white crewneck, leather jacket, and of course, his sunglasses.  

“Is that the whole, ‘new outfit, new you’ sort of thing women do?”  

“No, it’s a ‘I want to drink, forget about my crappy life, and meet a stranger at a bar’ thing that  _I’m_  doing.”  

Deacon appraised Sole from behind his shades; the red sequined dress with a plunging neckline, the tousled up-do her hair was coiled in; she had even thrown some make up on – and he couldn’t deny that she looked  _good_.  The agent in him couldn’t help but observe a few other details; the heated flush that clung to her skin, the scent of booze that swirled around her.  Judging by the outgoing nature, and careless honesty as well, she was already a few drinks in to the evening.  From around the bar, Deacon could easily pick out three gazes, watching Sole at the bar like a hawk, and equally as predatory.

“In that case,” Deacon stuck out his hand, a shark’s grin on his face.  “Hi, I’m just a stranger in a bar, how do you do?”

Sole studied Deacon’s outstretched hand, with a raised eyebrow, before a sultry grin spread on her face as well, and she accepted it.

“How do you do.”

Deacon leaned in, so that his lips were at Sole’s ear, “What do you say, we get out of here?”

Sole’s eyes widened briefly, as if the thought hadn’t actually occurred to her that he would be serious.  Deacon’s hear twinged at the notion, but he ignored it.

“Lead the way,” she whispered back, batting her eyelashes.

Deacon slid from the bar stool, offering his hand to Sole as she stood as well.  He reached into his pocket to leave a handful of caps at the bar, before letting Sole grab onto his arm, and leading out.  Satisfaction welled inside of him, when he noticed the disappointed glowers those slimy looks from earlier morphed into.

Deacon was quiet as he led Sole back to his place; or the place he crashed at when he was in Sanctuary.  Seldom did he use it, but tonight he was grateful he had it.  Sole chattered on the entire way home, stumbling every so often; Deacon was always careful to steady her, and to nod enthusiastically when cued.  Deacon watched as Sole babbled on – he’d guess she was nervous - it was sort of sweet, but then he’d get to thinking about how any other man could’ve been in his place, and his stomach would sink.

“Your place?”  Sole asked, her eyebrows raised.

“More private,” he gave a small smile, it was true, but probably not for the reasons she’d discern.

The full extent of Sole’s inebriation was pretty evident now, and Deacon had to all but haul her into his house, as she clung weakly to his jacket.

“D-Deacon?”  Sole murmured.

He kept Sole steady as he walked her down the hallway of the house – he had remembered to get a bed, hadn’t he?

They rounded the corner, and he was pleased to see that he had.  

He led Sole to the bed, helping her as she kicked off her shoes, before laying her down.  

“Deacon?” she asked again, weaker still.

He figured she’d be worrying at her fingers or fidgeting nervously, had she the strength to do so.

“Just relax Sole, I’ll be back with some water. You can rest here tonight.”

Sole’s eyebrows furrowed, and Deacon noticed the clammy sheen of sweat that had accumulated on her forehead.

“I don’t…understand.”

Deacon perched on the edge of the bed.

“I didn’t like the looks some of those men were giving you at the bar, especially in your current…uninhibited state.  So, you can crash here for the night.  I’ll leave a glass of water on the night stand, since I’m sure you’ll have a killer hangover tomorrow morning.”  He let out a short laugh, “I’ll take the couch though, so don’t worry about it.”

Alarm filled Deacon when he noticed the tears that beaded along her eyelashes.

“You did this…to…protect me?”

Deacon’s heart hammered, and he felt a cold sweat break out across his skin.  

“Yeah, what are partners for, huh?”

Deacon shifted to rise again but stopped short when he noticed Sole’s hand weakly grab a fistful of his shirt.

“And here I thought you were into me.”

Deacon gently unfurled her grip from him, soothingly running his fingers along hers briefly, before setting it down at her side again.  He swallowed nervously.

“We…can talk about that in the morning.”

“I’ll hold you to that,” she breathed.

He hoped she would.  He left to grab her a glass of water.

**Dogmeat** : Sole leaned against the wall, ale sloshing enticingly against the sides of her mug, occasionally spilling over.

“Shit,” Sole murmured, examining her hands for signs she had spilled on herself, as well as on the ground.

A pattering of paws sounded excitedly in the corner, and Sole couldn’t help but break out into a large grin when she saw Dogmeat patter over excitedly.  Immediately he bent down to lap at the puddle on the floor.

“Hey, no – naughty Dogmeat!”  Sole giggled and swatted at him.  “Don’t drink that!”

Dogmeat’s attention was no captured by Sole’s hand. His tail wagged violently, making a steady thumping noise.  A whine sounded from his throat, as he panted excitedly, his ears straight up.

Sole reached a hand to scratch behind his ears, her drink long forgotten now.

Dogmeat lurched forward excitedly, and lapped at her cheeks now, flushed in her intoxication.

“Ew, gross! Puppy, no!”  Sole laughed but let him continue to plant a series of puppy kisses on her face.

She threw her arms around Dogmeat, threading her fingers through his thick fur, and burying her nose in it.

“Good boy!”

Dogmeat barked happily.

**Hancock:** Sole sat perched on a barstool at the Third Rail, smiling softly to herself as she watched Magnolia perform.  The alcohol in her system made sway slightly on the stool, a dopey smile on her face.

“Someone looks happy.”

Sole whipped around to face the voice, coming from the barstool next to her.  Hancock sat, leaning heavily against the bar, that wily grin of his plastered on his face.

“I am.”

“Hmm,” Hancock’s gaze flicked to the half full glass cradled in her palms.  “I’d offer to buy you a drink, but it looks like you’re already set.”

“Doesn’t mean you can’t keep me company,” Sole smiled a cheeky grin, her whiskey making her brave.

Hancock was grateful he couldn’t blush.  

“True enough, doll.”

Hancock sat there with Sole, chatting happily, and reveling in the warmth of her flirtatious advances.  He watched as she clapped enthusiastically after every one of Magnolia’s songs.  He couldn’t help but adore how sweet she was, even in her intoxicated state.  She looked much less guarded here, than the usual Sole – the one who had clambered out of a vault after being frozen for two-hundred years, in search of her son and her husband’s killer.  As such, it was difficult not to follow suite.  

This easy-going state did not go unnoticed by some of the other bar’s patrons.  It wasn’t long before a man came sauntering up, drink in hand.  He was young, closer to Sole’s age than his own, that, Hancock could be sure of.  Based on his state of dress, he was a drifter, and much to Hancock’s dismay, a handsome one at that, with meticulous bone structure, and sharp eyes.

“Evening, this seat taken?”  The man looked to the seat on Sole’s other side, ignoring the glower Hancock was sending him from beside Sole.

“I don’t know.” Sole was uncaring, still enthralled with Magnolia up on the stage.

Hancock couldn’t help but smirk; Sole loved jazz, and hated her time being wasted.  This punk didn’t stand a chance.

“Well, how about a drink?  My treat.”

He raised the glass in offering.

Sole’s gaze remained leveled on the stage, the dopey grin never wavering.  She ignored the man’s advances with great vigor.  

“No thank you, I already have a drink.”

“But I- “

“The lady said she already has a drink.”  Hancock rasped, a vicious grin on his face.

“Stay out of this, man.”

“No, but you can, take a hike,  _man_.”

The man dropped his charming façade, as he and Hancock stared each other down.

“I mean it, bug off before you join your buddy, Finn.”

The man sneered but begrudgingly took the drink he had carried over and left.  Magnolia’s song came to an end, and Sole was back, applauding again.

Hancock chuckled, shaking his head, “You’re such an air head, what would you do without me?”

Sole cocked her head, eyes wide.  “What do you mean?”

Hancock hesitated, “You know what?  Never mind, you just keep enjoying yourself doll.”

Sole beamed at Hancock, “Okay!”

Sole fixed her eyes on the stage, starstruck, and Hancock watched Sole adoringly.

_This is it; she’s it._

**MacCready:** Sole sauntered over to MacCready, her cheeks flushed hotly from the previous drinks she’d had, her eyes bright, and sharp, in part due to her brash smile.

“Hey MacCready!”

The man turned in his seat, leaning back, drink in hand.  He raised it slightly to Sole, who was leaning against the doorframe.

“Sole, good to see you again.  What’s up?”

Sole meandered over, “How come I don’t call you by your first name?”

MacCready flushed, “I don’t know, I uh, haven’t thought about it.”

Sole cocked her head.  She was beside him now, leaning against the side of the plush red chair.

“Can I?”

“Sure.”  He studied her.

“Alright then, Robert.”  Sole tried it out, before grinning broadly.  

MacCready had to fight the blush that threatened to heat his cheeks.

“Robert Joseph,” Sole said, almost singing.

MacCready snorted, “You  _are_  drunk.”

Sole smiled, a little shy, “I am, but that doesn’t mean I’m not into you when I’m sober.”

Sole turned to walk by a flustered MacCready, curled up defensively in the chair,  and then her foot caught on the chair leg, sending her toppling right into his lap.

Sole was drunk, but not so drunk that she didn’t understand the nature of their compromising position.  MacCready mirrored her shade of crimson, as it flashed across their faces.

“ _That_  was an accident.”  Sole squeaked.

“I-I figured.”

Sole struggled to right herself, but MacCready’s arms came to wrap around her, holding her to his lap.  His eyes burned into her.

“MacCready?”  She blinked at him, nose to nose, her heart in her throat.

“That’s…not what you call me now, remember?”  His mouth quirked slightly, before his intense eyes flicked briefly to Sole’s mouth, asking.

“RJ –“  was all she had time to breathe, before he closed the distance.

**Nick Valentine** : “ _I said I’ll go through fire, and I’ll go through fire, as he wants it, so it will be,”_ Sole warbled, using her near empty beer bottle as a makeshift microphone.  

Nick watched her, with what would be the equivalent of a raised eyebrow, saying nothing.

“ _Crazy he calls me, so I’m crazy, crazy in love, you see_.”

Nick Valentine, though usually voice of reason, couldn’t help but chuckle at Sole’s drunken antics.  Seldom did he get to see her let her guard down like this, and it was strange to imagine that this very same woman, cheeks flushed from the warm alcohol that raced through her system serenading the bar with an… _impassioned_ rendition of Billie Holiday’s  _Crazy He Calls Me_  could be the same woman who scoured the Commonwealth in search of her son, and vanquished one of the most feared mercenary’s out there (who happened to be employed by the most feared entity in existence, to boot.)

“You’re a regular Debbie Reynolds, doll.”

Sole tossed her hair dramatically, “No, Debbie Reynolds is a regular  _me_.”

Nick snorted and put out the cigarette he was nursing.

“Fair enough.”

As the song came to an end, the dingy radio Vadim kept in the Dugout Inn broke the string of songs with some announcements from Travis.  Sole took this opportunity to flounce back to her seat next to Nick.  Her gaze flicked mischievously to the glass of gin sitting neglected by Nick’s forearm.

“You going to finish that?”

Nick rolled his eyes, “It’s all yours.”

He watched, half in awe, and half…a little concerned, as Sole polished off the drink easily.

“Easy, you’ve got one liver, don’t wear it out in one night.”

A familiar swell of music sounded from the radio behind the bar, and Sole hopped from her barstool with an almost cartoonish haste.

“Nicky!” she gasped, “You have to dance with me!”

He raised what would’ve been an eyebrow, skeptical.

“Oh, I  _have to_ , huh?”  

He was already leaving his signature coat behind at his seat though and cuffing up the sleeves of his white dress shirt, a small smile on his face.

Nick offered his hands to Sole, who eagerly took them, beaming.  She placed one on her hip, and kept the other in her hand, raised at their shoulders.

“You’re quite the performer tonight,” Nick remarked as he and Sole swayed gently to the beat.  “I didn’t know you liked music that much.”

Sole’s smile eased up, gentle – more docile than it had been all evening.  

“Yeah, pre-war, I was a huge fan of all of it – music, art, films; you name it.”

Nick Valentine nodded appreciatively, “Right, films; motion pictures, right?”

Sole raised her eyebrows, surprised, “Yeah! You know them?  I didn’t think the Commonwealth had any.”

Nick chuckled again, “Mostly they don’t,” he reached around to twirl Sole gently, “but sometimes when I get flashes of Nick’s life, I can see things…as they were, you know?”

A contented quiet settled between the two, both reminiscing in one way, or another.

“What sort of movies…did Nick like?”  Sole questioned, a little unsure of what etiquette dictated such an exchange between a synth and a woman who had been frozen in time, regarding his consciousness’ former body’s life.

Nick smiled reassuringly, “He had a thing for those old-time detective movies, go figure,” Nick laughed, “And a flare for the dramatics; those uh,  _film noirs_?”

It was Sole’s turn to laugh, “I liked those too!”

Her face suddenly contorted theatrically, her lips pouting, her eyes pinched up in exaggerated emotion; another one of her characters for the evening.

“ _Kiss me, Mike. I want you to kiss me. Kiss me. The liar’s kiss that says I love you and means something else._ ”

Nick watched, thoughtful, “Hang on, I sort of recognize that one…that’s… _Kiss Me Deadly_?”

Sole nodded enthusiastically, “It was!  Lily Carver!”

Nick smiled wistfully, “That was one of Jenny’s favorites.”

Sole gave Nick’s hand a warm squeeze.

“It was one of mine too; Nate thought it was absolutely ridiculous.”

“He and Nick would’ve gotten along,”

Sole laughed again.

“ _You have only one real lasting love._ ”  Sole said quietly, gazing up at Nick.

Nick leveled his own gaze at her; still flushed from the multitude of drinks she’d had that evening, her eyes glittering under the dim light.  She had spent the entire evening playing pretend; but Nick could see the appeal, she looked like a movie star tonight, heartbreakingly beautiful.

He recognized her quote, another one from  _Kiss Me Deadly_ , this one by Christina Bailey. He could vividly recall Mike Hammer’s response.  He knew saying it aloud though would mean reciprocating…whatever it was that had cultivated between him and Sole; not just tonight but over the months they had traveled together.  He had stifled it for all that time, and now, it seemed like all that resolve was about to topple over.

“ _Now, who could that be_?”  Nick murmured, unblinking.

Sole grinned largely, before returning to her character, and looking up at Nick shrewdly.

“ _You –_  “

Nick pulled Sole in swiftly, pressing his mouth against hers in a sweet kiss.

Sole blinked up at Nick, her cheeks darkening further; it was no longer just the alcohol that attributed to her pink hue.

“You didn’t let me finish!” Sole complained weakly.

Nick snorted, “The rest of that line was just about how self-indulgent and in love with myself I am.  I like this version, much better.”

Sole warmed further, “You’re basically a character out of one of those movies, you know.”

Nick laughed, “Don’t I know it, doll, don’t I know it.”

He pulled her close again, and dipped her low, showing her his own flare for the dramatics.

**Old Longfellow** : Sole had never drunk in Far Harbor before today, so when Old Longfellow invited her for a night at his favorite watering hole, Sole had been prepared to…fully christen it.

Longfellow had ordered them round after round of all his favorite darks; bourbon, whiskey, gin; and after a few hours had gone by, Sole was a consistent pink from the warm flush of the night’s activities.

Sole shuddered at the thought of the hangover she’d have in the morning; but she couldn’t say she regretted the night – The Last Plank was folksier than the Dugout Inn, or The Third Rail; tonight, a trio of fiddlers inhabited the corner, at the ready for anyone who knew how to properly appreciate their sound.

Turns out, Longfellow was exactly that man.

He set his mug down with great vigor, “Back in my day, Hannah an’ I used to dance ‘till the sun came up.”

He brought a hand across his mouth.

“An’ I’ll be damned if ye don’t get ta say ye did the same thing, at least once.”

Before Sole could respond, Longfellow had moved from his seat beside Sole at the bar and reached out a hand in offering.

Sole slid off of her bar stool, and apprehensively accepted Longfellow’s hand.  The man turned briefly towards the fiddlers, making a gesture that somehow, universally meant,  _Let’s get this party started_.

“I don’t know how to dance.” Sole admitted sheepishly, as Longfellow placed one arm around her waist, and the other in one of her hands, raising them to be at shoulder height.

A wily swell if Irish fiddle rang out, setting the tone.

Longfellow grinned heartily, “Well, lucky fer ye, I can!”

The fiddlers settled into a frenzied sequence of notes, so fast Sole could barely register one before the next five came tumbling after.  Sole ‘s gaze focused intensely on her feet, looking clumsy next to Longfellow’s quick movements.

“Relax darlin’, let me take the lead.”

Sole pinched her eyes shut, her eyebrows still furrowed in concentration.  Somehow…the strange tension was leeched from her muscles.  She kept her limbs pliable, letting Longfellow guide her, twirl her, and even dip her.  Sole trusted him to lead her safely from point A to point B, and he did not disappoint. Sole felt like she was flying, and eventually, the tension above her eyes released too.

“There we go, that’s it.” Longfellow’s gravelly voice was in her ear.

All too soon, the song was over, and Longfellow righted her into a standing position.  Sole peeked her eyes open and was met by some sporadic applause from a few of the other patrons.

Longfellow grinned, his cheeks bright from exertion, and his eyes sparkling in the low light.

“How was tha’?”

Sole beamed, “It was fun!  Shall we go again?”

Sole offered her hand now, and Longfellow accepted as the fiddler’s readied their next song.

“We shall.”

**Piper:** “Hmm, how about ‘ _Long feared, Institute goes out with a Bang_ ’?”  

Sole thought on it for a moment, before taking another swig of her drink, and shaking her head, making out a crossing out gesture with the hand that was not holding her glass.

“How about no?  It’s too wordy.”

Piper groaned but scribbled out the potential title she had scrawled down.

“ _Eggheads Finally Crack_?”

Sole laughed, “Cute, but not quite.”

Piper sighed and scribbled out another line on the relatively clean sheet of paper.  She tapped the pen against her chin, as her eyes scanned the room without really looking at it; trying to sift through the cluttered contents of the Dugout Inn, to see if her next big headline was tucked in between the good bourbon and the cheap stout.

“Oh, I got it – ‘ _A Synthetic Sense of Security – Where Does the Commonwealth Go From Here_?’”

Sole thought for a moment, as Piper’s eager eyes bore into her.

“Maybe.” Sole finally said.

Piper threw up her arms, fed up.

“Christ, you are so picky! No wonder I need to drink while doing this.”

Sole rolled her eyes, “Alright, alright, Hemmingway, it’s a…fine title.”

“ _Just_  fine?”  Piper frowned.

“It’s the greatest headline I’ve ever heard! There.  You happy?”

Piper thought on it for a moment, her gaze flicking down to the numbered quantity of titles left on her idea page; deliberating how much longer she wanted to agonize over this.

“Yeah, I suppose that’ll do.”

Sole nodded approvingly, glad to finally be done with Piper’s ‘homework’.  

“I can’t believe you can actually use your brain when you drink.”

Sole’s words were sluggish, and she couldn’t help but grin dopily, as if to make her point.

Piper grinned snarkily, “I can’t believe you  _can’t_.  I’ve been watching your brain cells defect with each drink.”

Sole smacked Piper’s arm playfully, “They didn’t defect, they’re just…”

Piper stared at Sole expectantly.

“Unavailable at the moment.”  Sole blinked back at her dumbly.  “So please leave a message after the beep.   _Beep_.”

Piper made a face, “That’s another weird pre-war reference, isn’t it?”

“It’s not weird! It’s tasteful.  I’ll have you know that I’m a delight.”

“Even when drunk?”

“Espefecially when drunk.”

Piper blinked at Sole.

“Specifically?” Sole tried again, eyebrows furrowing at the clumsy word in her mouth.

“’Especially.’” Piper corrected.

“Yeah.  That.”

Piper rolled her eyes again, “Alright, new headline;  _Vault Dweller Perfectly Preserved After 200 Years, Disintegrates Brain in Three Hours_.”

Piper’s laughter was more akin to a cackle, as Sole leapt from her barstool, and chased the woman out of the bar, paper fisted securely in hand.

**Gage** : Sole groaned, and nearly toppled off the stool unceremoniously.  Gage watched, unimpressed, and vaguely glad that it was just him and Sole drinking in the privacy of her quarters at the summit of Fizztop Mountain.

“Gee Boss, you’re a lightweight?  Make sure you don’t let the other gang leaders know.  They’ll eat you alive.”

“S-Shut - _hic_ \- up.”  Sole moaned, clinging to the bar like a life raft.

Sole’s face was flushed, and she felt feverish as the alcohol coursed hotly through her system.  In the next moment, she felt something loom behind her, and upon turning her head slightly, she found Gage right next to her, his arms braced around her, as if to keep her from falling straight onto her butt.

The proximity was dizzying.

“G-Gage –“Sole groaned.

“Yeah, boss?”

“H-Help,” Sole croaked weakly, before her muscles gave out, and she leaned into Gage’s hold.

Gage sighed.  He’d had handled his fair share of drunks in his life, but that didn’t mean he enjoyed it.  Gage adjusted his hold on Sole, so that he could easily scoop her up in his arms.

“You’re lucky you’re  _the_  boss.”  He muttered as he carried her to her bed.

He set her down, taking extra care to remove her shoes, and keep her legs on the bed, and her head supported by one of the Colter’s old, plush pillows.

“T-Thank you, and…sorry.” Sole breathed, her eyes still firmly pinched shut.

Gage rolled his eyes, “You don’t need to apologize, you’re the Overboss.”

Gage stepped back, “Anyways, lay here.  Sleep it off.  Tomorrow you’re going to have a killer hangover, so I’ll go find something for that.”

He turned to leave but felt something hold him back.

Sole’s hand, even in her weakened state, had managed to clench onto a fistful of the material of his shirt.

“Stay.” Sole moaned.

Gage’s cheeks flushed, and he was grateful Sole didn’t have the energy to scrutinize his every move, in her current state.

“I don’t think you realize what you’re saying.” He murmured.

“I do,” Sole peaked a bleary eye open, “Stay. Please.”

Gently, Gage unraveled her hold from him, “Fine. Scoot over.”

His words were gruff, but his touches were gentle, as he carefully slid his hands beneath her, and shifted her over a bit, so that he could climb into bed next to her.

Sole rolled over towards him once he had settled in, so that she could press her nose to his chest.

“Shoot.  Boss, what the hell?”  Flustered tension edged his voice.

“Sshh, I’m sleeping.”  Sole grumbled, her hand once again finding a fistful of his shirt; as if afraid he’d try and make a getaway.

Gage threw an arm over Sole’s waist, his face still a brilliant crimson, “Then shut up and go to sleep already.”

A small smile formed on Sole’s face.  _No problem._

**Preston** : “Cheers!”  chorused around the spacious courtyard of the castle, as the Minutemen celebrated together.  It was a beautiful, clear night; the stars swirled up in the sky like creamer in coffee. It was pleasantly warm, with the occasional chilly breeze; but good companionship and the flowing booze kept everyone warm enough.  Strings of rustic lanterns crisscrossed the expanse of the open space; Sole had never seen the Castle look so…lovely.

Sole beamed, laying back in her chair, and taking a hearty swig of her drink.  She could feel the radiative heat from her cheeks.  

“General,” Preston greeted, meandering over, taking a seat in the empty lawn chair next to her.

“Preston,” Sole raised her glass.

“Enjoying the party?”

Sole nodded, “Absolutely.  You?”

Preston smiled more easily than Sole had seen him do in months.

“I am.  It’s nice to see the Castle – the Minutemen, like this.”

“It is,” Sole agreed.

“And you did this, you know?  You brought everyone together.”

Sole shook her head, “No, that was you.”

Preston flushed at the subtle praise, “General – “

“I may wear the title, but this was all your doing. Well done, Garvey.”

Preston’s dark gaze clung to Sole’s resolute expression, softened by her inebriated pinkness.

“You done good, Garvey.”  Sole grinned.

Preston laughed, “How drunk are you?”

“M’not drunk.”  Sole slurred exaggeratedly, winking at the man.

“Well, I suppose if you are to…lose your inhibitions, this is the place to do it; in the safety of the Castle.”

Sole sighed, “True, I mean look at this place, have you ever seen it look so…lovely?”

Preston made a face, before chuckling, “That’s an interesting word to use on a  _fortress_.”

Sole laughed, “I mean, it’s true, right?  It just…I don’t know, sets a mood, different from usual.”

Preston’s smile faded a little, “Yeah, I know what you mean.”

Sole looked at Preston, “You know, there’s something…different, that I want to try.”

Preston mirrored Sole’s gentle seriousness, “Then you should try it.”

“You don’t even know what it is.”

Preston swallowed, “Maybe I do.  Or maybe I want to do it too.”

Sole giggled, a little nervous, “Like you said, I’m drunk.  I could be ready to do something totally crazy.”

“Crazy is what got the Minutemen back together.”

Sole pursed her lips, pensive for a few moments, before she set her drink down, and let two hands brace Preston’s face gently. She leaned in and planted a sweet kiss against his lips, pinching her eyes shut.  Her face heated at the softness of his mouth on hers.

Sole pulled back but did not release the man.

Preston’s eyes had fallen open by this point, and he blinked at her, his own cheeks flushing darkly.

Sole pursed her lips again.  Thinking, again.  She leaned in and pressed another kiss, shorter, to his mouth before pulling back and studying him.

Preston couldn’t help but smile at her antics; her eyes studied him, but he could tell she was struggling to decipher the current situation through the fog of her intoxication.  Her cheeks were flushed, and the thoughtful jut of her bottom lip made her look all the more endearing.

Sole placed a final kiss to his mouth, short, and almost chaste, before finally releasing him, and leaning back in her seat again. She grabbed her drink, and cleared her throat, fixing her gaze on the sky again.

Preston couldn’t look away from her.

“There are so many stars tonight.”  Sole remarked, her voice wobbling slightly.

“Mhmm,” Preston agreed, still looking at Sole.

“They’re pretty.”

“They are.”

Sole’s gaze briefly flicked to the man beside her, before returning to the velvety night sky.  Preston felt something nudge his hand, and he looked to see Sole’s fingers brushing against his, blindly groping for a hold.

Preston grinned, and captured her hand between both of his.

A lovely night, indeed.

**Strong** : He watched, unamused as Sole staggered around, empty bottle in hand.

“O-Ow,” Sole groaned, her free hand pressing desperately at her temples, searching for relief.

“Stupid puny human,” Strong grunted, “Too much liquid – but not milk of human kindness.”

“Inside voices please,” Sole whispered, pinching her eyes shut.

“Now stupid human sick!  Weak, puny human.”

“Stop  _yelling_.” Sole rasped.

“Stop drinking.” Strong grunted, shaking his head, as they trudged on.

**X6-88** : “Ma’am, it’s advisable you stop drinking in your current state.”

Sole shot X6 a look, her eyebrows furrowed, and her mouth pinched in a childish pout.

“It’s advisable you mind your own beeswax.” Sole shot back, indignantly polishing off another shot.

X6 sighed.  This, again.

“Ma’am, remember what happened  _last time_?”

Sole froze, mid sip, her cheeks puffed out like a squirrel’s, and her eyes wide.

“Mm-“

“You cried for three hours into a box of sweets, and then spent the rest of the night huddled by the toilet alternating between vomiting, and singing pre-war show tunes - if you could call that  _singing_.”  X6 said matter-of-factly, muttering the last part.

Sole’s cheeks flushed, “That did  _not_  happen!”

“It did ma’am, I would know, I was the one who cleaned up.”

Tears sprung from Sole’s eyes, “And I commend your sacrifice X6,” Sole sniffled suddenly, “You’re such a good friend.”

X6 rolled his eyes, “Here we go again,”

His heart twinged at the word ‘friend’, and so X6 didn’t bother pointing out that he had technically been assigned to hang out with her.

“I-I’m - _hic_ \- hungry, d-do we have any f-food?”

X6 sighed again, already heading to the cupboard.

“S-Something - _hic_ \- sweet maybe?”

X6 already had a box of  _Fancy Lads’ Snack Cakes_  in hand.

“Oh X6, you’re a peach!”

X6 watched Sole wrestle with the box for a few moments, his mouth twitching in mild amusement, before he took the box from her, and removed the cover, handing the open box back to her.  Sole popped a cake into her mouth, and more tears streamed down her face.

“What’s wrong now, ma’am.”

“C-Cake is just…s-so - _hic_ \- good, you know?”

“I don’t much have a taste for sweets.”  X6 murmured.

“I - _hic_ \- love them so much.  And I - _hic_ \- love you so much.”

X6 flushed darkly, “I-I don’t think you know what you’re saying.”

He was grateful Sole was didn’t seem to notice his physical reaction.  He might mistake it for feelings he…most  _certainly_  didn’t have.  Couldn’t have.

X6 watched as Sole went through half a box of the sweets, quiet with the exception of some chewing sounds, before she paused suddenly, her eyebrows furrowing again.

“Ma’am?”

Sole placed a hand at her stomach.

“I don’t - _hic_ \- feel so good…”

X6 sighed and reached forward, gently prying the box away from her fingers, and hoisting her up by her arm.

“This way ma’am.”

“You always know just what to do X6-“Sole sniffled, with feeling.

“Because history is doomed to repeat itself,” X6 murmured, guiding Sole to the bathroom.

“Yep, we are most certainly doomed.  I would know, I survived the apocalypse you know.”

He did.

“But at least we’re doomed together, right?”  Sole cocked her head to the side and batted her eyelashes.

How could someone so…drunk and lacking in self-control look so…cute?

X6 cleared his throat, fighting another wave of crimson that threatened his face.

“Being doomed with you, makes me feel not so doomed after all!”

Sole beamed at him, as X6 set her down on the floor next to the toilet, so that her back was leaning against the porcelain of the bathtub.

X6 had just a moment to indulge the fantasy that lurked in the farthest corner of his mind; Sole, cheeks flushed, hair tousled, beaming up at him.  How he wanted to kiss her, hold her, maybe indulge in some other…fantasies with her. Begin each morning and end each night with her.

X6 loved and hated the way his optimized processor could play out all these different lovely scenarios in the split second he had to savor Sole looking at him like that, before her stomach heaved and she retched into the toilet bowl.

X6 sighed and ran a hand soothingly along her back.

Perhaps next time, he could do something to break this cycle.  Perhaps next time, he could bring one of those delightful images in his head, into fruition.

Sole reached a hand up over her shoulder, to warmly cover X6’s hand, squeezing gently.

X6 couldn’t help but squeeze back; history repeated itself so that one could learn moving forward, after all.  X6 entertained his fantasies for a little while longer.


End file.
